Reflections of a pastor who happens to be gay

AS AN OPENLY GAY PERSON, WHY BE INVOLVED IN CHURCH? 

Large sectors of the Christian movement are extremely vocal about non acceptance of people who choose to be gay, lesbian or transgendered. Based on just a handful of Bible references, most often taken out of context, there has been this campaign of abuse and hatred of those who declare themselves to be different. (See the links at the foot of the page for helpful resources.)

Thankfully, this is not a universal perspective, and there are many Christian communities that are welcoming and accepting. Still, religion evokes passion. Passion can be great but it can also be destructive.

I was raised in an environment that was passionate about Jesus and the Holy Spirit experience. Passion was key to our devotion and spiritual growth. It was certainly passion (maybe more the passion of others) that landed me in Bible College. Still, amid the influences, I found something good in my spiritual searchings. I found the story of a compassionate man who wanted to change the world through love, healing, and restoration. He was Jesus.

My first attempt at ministry declared me incompatible and heretical. While I talk of it lightly these days, that was probably the most devastating experience of my life. It felt like exile. It felt like violation. Yet I wasn't one to add to the church's hypocrisy - if I couldn't be honest then I shouldn't be there. The devastation came because I defined my passion in terms of church, instead of personal spirituality. My conscious awareness of difference made me crave acceptance all the more, and church was the only home I knew.

In 1978, I read Troy Perry's book, The Lord is My Shepherd and He Knows I'm Gay. It was transformational. Perry had been a Pentecostal minister in the USA in the 1960's. He had also been excomunicated for his homosexuality. He, however, continued to wrestle with God's call, and established a church "for all people".

I have come to believe that in the 1960's there was a spiritual awakening of equal relevence to the one that had happened fifty years before in Azuza Street. Los Angeles and Sunderland, England. Four movements emerged within several years of each other - all were among oppressed groups of people, all were spontaneous, each had a liberating effect, all were Christian: there was the liberation theology movement among the poor of Latin America; there was black liberation movement linked closely to the death of Dr. Matin Luther King Jr; there was the feminist theology movement; and there was a liberation movement among lesbian and gay Christians to which Troy Perry was a major contributor.

Whilst much of Perry's thinking was still Pentecostal in style, he redefined salvation as being "saved from lonliness, despair and degredation through God's gift of grace, as declared by our Saviour." (Article III:6 MCC Bylaws). For me, this was about the Realm (Kingdom) of God being among us.

Metropolitan Community Church has become a platform that has enabled me to rearticulate my passion and philosophy of church and ministry. I didn't start with the intention of becoming involved, but back then there wasn't a great deal of option if you were going to be out in the community. Because the Church had withdrawn its spiritual covering of me (an old pentecostal expression), God's lgbt children became my new church - the support groups, the activism and eventually the pastoral expression that I found in MCC. I also believe that we are called to be Christ in the community - and for the larger part, my community happens to be among gay and lesbian people.

For people who are able to continue in the churches of their choice, the discussion around sexuality in the light of Bible teaching and interpretation is a constant issue; whereas, working with community based organizations sexuality is far less frequently the issue. Re-learning church becomes the issue. Most of us carry our religious baggage with us, which eventually colours what we seek spiritually; often we either want to reclaim that which has been taken from us, or we want to be as far from it as we can.. So, working with a congregation composed of Catholics, mainstream Protestants, Evangelicals and Pentecostals, progressive Christians, recovering fundamentalists, and some with no religious background ..... well, while in theory, it may seem like ecumenical heaven; at least, when it comes to worship heaven can be flawed.

I have sought to be authentic. I have tried not to merely do church or ministry for the sake of tradition. I returned to pastoral ministry in the midst of the AIDS crisis, recognizing the lack of spiritual advocates for gay men dying with AIDS. Subsequently, my relaunch into Christian ministry (MCC Manchester) started out as a spirituality group in the Lesbian and Gay Centre with few parameters. I had this hope then, that we might find an expression of faith community that wasn't so leashed to institutional church stereotypes. Yet twenty years on, I realize that, people that seek out the church and its ministry are, for the most part, trying to reconnect with a part of themselves that had been lost or abandoned. 

Authentic faith is not something tangible or even specific; authentic faith is the continual devotion of the human spirit. Therefore, it is not that I discover something new, which is the Utopia or Shangri-la that I've been dreaming of; but that I am willing to be the continual seeker after God. We were repeatedly reminded in Bible College, that rarely is revelation new, but a rediscovery of the past with new perspective.

What does it mean to be called to minister? These days, I think it is much more about personal vision and motivation, than some divine intervention. Here are my harsh words: I believe that many people use being "called" as an excuse to perpetuate groups that have long exceeded their effectiveness. They maybe good at caring for the needs of a cluster of likeminded people, but their vision has become unrealistic and their motivation evaporated. I am shocked to find many of my Pentecostal peers are in the same place they were thirty years ago. That's not a bad thing, but sometimes it's a sad thing. It's not just a pentecostal thing - its a church thing.

FINDING A SPIRITUAL HOME

As an openly gay man, finding a spiritual home has always been a challenge; and as one who is called to "feed the flock" one's spiritual home is rarely the place where one is called to work, or not for me. I follow my vocation with sincerity and professionalism but who I work for (the institution) isn't the consumation of my spirituality.

From 1985 to 1992 I was privileged to serve the Board of the European Forum for Gay & Lesbian Groups. At that time there were about thirty groups from Western Europe and Eastern Europe was just beginning to be accessible. Unlike any other group I have worked with, before or since, this forum brought together a full expression of Western Christianity.

Through the Forum's inspiring connections I found spiritual homes in places I could never have imagined before. The seeds of fascination for religious community began to germinate. In 1989, I went to the Agape Ecumenical Centre in Prali Ghigo, in the mountains outside of Turin, Italy. I found a depth of spiritual tranquility there. Probably one of life's greatest moments was sharing an outdoor eucharist, on the montainside with a group of lesbian & gay Christians. The following year I visited the Trappist Community at Santa Maria Abbey in Nunraw, Scotland, and a pattern of personal retreat was conceived.

 The fortress style Abbey Guest House at Nunraw

On moving to Florida in 1997 I discovered the Benedictines at St. Leos Abbey, San Antonio FL. Ironically, my spouse Karl was working at the library on the adjoining St, Leo College. We never knowingly met during that time. With gratitude to Sister Lorraine, the guest house host and Father Jude, a somewhat eccentric member of the community (now both deceased), I found a spiritual home there, or at least an oasis in my journeyings.

 St. Leos Abbey

A spiritual home can be an informal gathering of people with a common bond, or it can be a sacred place with no people at all.

SO, WHY DO IT? WHY DO MINISTRY IN THE CHURCH?

I recognize that many others share my experience. many have walked or been pushed away from a church they love. It's about offering a 'coming home' experience.

I believe we are all spiritual. I see my task to raise awareness of our spiritual nature, to offer options for enrichment, and opportunity for renewing our relationship with God. The choices are personal. I personally choose to follow Jesus.

I believe in a call to be Christ in our community. While I struggle with current, often conflicting, church concepts - big church, small church - great music but shallow theology - great progressive theology and mediocre worship - this is not the big picture. Our worship is the "equipping of the saints" to be sensitive to the call to serve beyond our walls.

One of my great joys has been celebrating communion (the sacrament of bread and fruit of the vine) with such mixed and diverse people. At times it feels far more like the feeding of the five thousand than the Last Supper. Beyond the theology of remembrance, it is an act of healing when we come together as one. There is little that has a more powerful effect than being welcomed to the table after you've been told previously, you don't have a place. For me, that's authentic church.

WHAT WILL THE CHURCH LOOK LIKE IN THE FUTURE?

I love old church buildings. One of the things I miss about Europe are the great medieval churches and cathedrals. In my 20s, in the days when you were allowed on the roof, I would sit among the gargoils on a breezy summer's day on top of Paris' Notre Dame Cathedral and simply muse on the history overlooked from that vantage point.

Of course, buildings are not Church. People are Church. Each congregation is a microcosm of the world that envelopes it. In this, we have hope that prejudices, obstacles and negative attitudes have prospects of dying as the generations that hold them pass away. The grand cavernous buildings that once housed revivals are the monuments of tarnished glory. Like its monuments, church concepts of the 19th & 20th century are rapidly crumbling either through natural causes or because of constant in-fighting.  

I have a lasting claim to fame in the Pentecostal Church. The church that I pastored (Derby Hall) had been isolated from mainstream Pentecostal churches for more than fifty years, because its founder A.E.Saxby held to a doctrine of ultimate reconciliation. In some bizarre wisdom, I knew that in order to survive, the assembly needed to be in fellowship with a larger body. I initiated the entry of Derby Hall into Assemblies of God. It seemed the most caring thing for the saints who had been there for so long. Today's Derby Hall has a very different heart to the one of past years. It's not where I would be, but it has become a vibrant ministry serving its community.

The church of tomorrow will be different. The things we struggle with today may be the church of the next generation. It is sad reality, especially in church history, that the oppressed end up as the oppressors. The hope that ignites my vision is that the Spirit will always lead the Church into new concepts, and we can judge, remonstrate, condemn, deny all we like, but in the meantime the Spirit will have moved on.